tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9601959517025855232024-03-05T04:12:49.749-05:00Economy 2.0, a Journal of Fresh-Minted Freelance and WonderThe day-to-day journeys of Cait, a creative professional set free to roam this best of all possible economies in this best of all possible worlds.Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.comBlogger83125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-85250323503545821702010-05-24T22:47:00.004-04:002010-05-24T22:58:55.542-04:00Vacation<div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9WpDLcckSOFwHpjydC_fS-aC2Hs1K8S2LxUMYQbnDQT6P3HEDSo1vUOl-ZwtPrGiyMWfrw_nYtlOMcqGoz7KcxdSVfViVpWF-guVxjnzlj1F0CWQ77jxZ9Hye3_TULGs4oO9E3I01AHo-/s1600/x.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9WpDLcckSOFwHpjydC_fS-aC2Hs1K8S2LxUMYQbnDQT6P3HEDSo1vUOl-ZwtPrGiyMWfrw_nYtlOMcqGoz7KcxdSVfViVpWF-guVxjnzlj1F0CWQ77jxZ9Hye3_TULGs4oO9E3I01AHo-/s320/x.jpg" /></a></div>Beginning </div><div style="text-align: left;">a list of escape</div><div style="text-align: left;">plans - this is Monday</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Night Fever.</div><div style="text-align: left;">Brooklyn. For $3000:</div><div style="text-align: left;">there's India. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">For $3000: </div><div style="text-align: left;">there's first, last, </div><div style="text-align: left;">security.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">The cliche </div><div style="text-align: left;">of lotus</div><div style="text-align: left;">blossoms.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Odysseus carried </div><div style="text-align: left;">the ship's skeleton</div><div style="text-align: left;">every day on the beach;<br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">an old man beginning<br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">a list of escape<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;">plans.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-8560273083312312782010-05-17T18:05:00.000-04:002010-05-17T18:05:57.613-04:00A is for...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOEp0rwnsGwwC0VaYEHk7ZztMwlKljyem_RG7gM4aAGqM3Mb0rnfx0RM4MNGxGEI6qL_zEZw7eGRmEgQecH4js5SfNB_0HYwep7yc78hXsuzAgSP-iNiLhyn5YLmCYeqlEsri6zDUl1ZfS/s1600/a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOEp0rwnsGwwC0VaYEHk7ZztMwlKljyem_RG7gM4aAGqM3Mb0rnfx0RM4MNGxGEI6qL_zEZw7eGRmEgQecH4js5SfNB_0HYwep7yc78hXsuzAgSP-iNiLhyn5YLmCYeqlEsri6zDUl1ZfS/s320/a.jpg" /></a></div><br />
See, I haven't totally forgotten, but life has sped up a bit and blogging isn't always the top priority. At least, not blogging for myself; blogging for my clients remains a pretty big deal.<br />
<br />
Notice that? The plural on "clients" there? That's right; my tiny little freelance gig has blossomed into a company. I now have 3 clients - brands that have hired me to bring them into the social media space. Pretty neat.<br />
<br />
Things are looking up, Economy 2.0. This tiny eek-by loose-change moonlighting stint might actually be the best choice I've ever made. Who knew? Maybe we all did.<br />
<br />
After all, social media is an increasingly attractive alternative to traditional publicity or advertising. Brands that budgeted hundreds of thousands for traditional PR and advertising are wondering just what a fraction of the cost could get them on Twitter or Facebook.<br />
<br />
Media impressions are one thing (and a good thing, don't get me wrong) - but media impressions don't compare with true brand engagement. It's like reading a book versus writing a paper on it; one gives you a blazing red A and some uptight dudes, another gives you Hester Prynne, the bastard Pearl, goody-goody Goodies, and some pretty damn modern thoughts on judgement, humanism and the steamrolling power (and spiritual irrelevance) of mass-minded morality. One you vaguely recall, the other you whole-heartedly remember.<br />
<br />
Money well-spent, I suppose. And so now I cheat on my own blog with the blogs of others. Interesting. What was that about adultery? Where's my alphabet placard?<br />
<br />
Tweet me a scarlet letter, then; at least I'm getting paid.Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-3926269997548646752010-04-22T09:29:00.000-04:002010-04-22T09:29:23.561-04:00Empty Pockets, Bright Horizons<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ2fy7iLJf5z6x9rTh5zktC5wsqxtdCO8gPNq0_B7F0bZzcOoDFcK95Gg4q8av4kPgdZe0GSdqKi11kX915i2dSaKeUzDj44zcuZJd4jh2U5Yq9pYGxguS4r6ozGrtjiED6sZ2hOQ2WGXL/s1600/cait.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ2fy7iLJf5z6x9rTh5zktC5wsqxtdCO8gPNq0_B7F0bZzcOoDFcK95Gg4q8av4kPgdZe0GSdqKi11kX915i2dSaKeUzDj44zcuZJd4jh2U5Yq9pYGxguS4r6ozGrtjiED6sZ2hOQ2WGXL/s320/cait.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Well hello again! Clearly it's been a busy month. Basically, I've gone from tentatively freelancing to launching my own Social Media Consulting/Copywriting business. Yowzers.<br />
<br />
How did all this happen? Who knows. But I'm excited as all get-out. Now comes the nitty-gritty of LLCing, choosing a brand color, designing a logo, ordering business cards, setting up quarterly taxes, and all that jazz. As a freelancer, I racked up a nice chuck of experience in social media, and as a small firm employee, I learned the soup to nuts of boutique business ownership. I feel prepared, but still breathless.<br />
<br />
See those pockets? See that smile?<br />
<br />
I feel like that.Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-19389703893128646242010-03-17T11:07:00.002-04:002010-03-17T11:09:03.823-04:00Funion Gaga<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0VkPdIOsrFFJ2ljCSf0SZIZz05McFPD7EvISrYXD2M0Z5uFa1fzkBYrb-b1UGR9YMrObHp-9EIefMydDuvnTwVXxZ4ThLrex0Cg4WX-Lu9eZEVApfUVDo1Zs7r3OG0oL17dFu-exH9Jz-/s1600-h/onion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0VkPdIOsrFFJ2ljCSf0SZIZz05McFPD7EvISrYXD2M0Z5uFa1fzkBYrb-b1UGR9YMrObHp-9EIefMydDuvnTwVXxZ4ThLrex0Cg4WX-Lu9eZEVApfUVDo1Zs7r3OG0oL17dFu-exH9Jz-/s320/onion.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Stress - you are ridiculous. Please leave me alone. I am happy and have everything I need to do well in this world. So, stress, you tell yourself and your buddies Guilt, Shame, Self-Doubt and Mad Crazy Pointless Worry to shush-yo-one-big-ugly-collective-face and get the hell outta town.<br />
<br />
To spit in the eye of anxiety:<br />
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<ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">"Mistakes are the portals of discovery," James Joyce.</span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">And for a nice ironic twist: the above quote may itself be a mistake, as Mr. Joyce is also quoted as saying: "</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 0px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 0px; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">A man's errors are his </span><em style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">portals of discovery"</span></em></span></span></li>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">And perhaps, irony-on-irony, both the above are incorrect, as there's also this: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">A man of genius makes no </span><em style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">mistakes</span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">; his errors are volitional and are the </span><em style="font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">portals of discovery</span></em><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">."</span></span></li>
</ul><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Either way, life is an onion. Better stop crying and start peeling. Like the carnivores say: once you kill a cow, you gotta make a burger.</span></div>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-14051442983678867192010-03-12T23:55:00.002-05:002010-03-13T00:24:01.345-05:00Exhibition Isms<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwn2UCozQnMSJQrdogeXWrtny602JMljJ9_j_1IUy6W0Ap5357zA_atAursSW2TrS4jBRQbA0aoy9BxEknAa2rFH5wx96nBO4Paa2uhNc_tu1bEGwHcvNcZQ3z_z5vT4YnMYDAlfEJ88V0/s1600-h/swipe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwn2UCozQnMSJQrdogeXWrtny602JMljJ9_j_1IUy6W0Ap5357zA_atAursSW2TrS4jBRQbA0aoy9BxEknAa2rFH5wx96nBO4Paa2uhNc_tu1bEGwHcvNcZQ3z_z5vT4YnMYDAlfEJ88V0/s320/swipe.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Yet another reason to love this town: even our museum guards are exhibition-holding artists.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', times, serif; font-size: 10px; line-height: 15px;"></span><br />
<blockquote><b><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/06/nyregion/06guards.html?hp">Hoping to Graduate From Guards to Gauguins</a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">The New York Times</span></i></b></blockquote><blockquote>A group of Met guards... is stepping into the spotlight with a new art journal called <a href="http://swipemagazine.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: none;">Sw!pe Magazine: Guards’ Matter</span></span></a>, and an accompanying art exhibit, which runs through Sunday at <a href="http://www.25cpw.org/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: none;">25CPW</span></span></a>, a gallery at 62nd Street and Central Park West... The drawings, paintings, comics, prints, poetry and photography by 35 guards give exposure to the largely unnoticed workers who protect some of the world’s greatest treasures, not to mention dispense information on the quickest route to Renaissance Italy or to the bathroom.</blockquote><br />
Really, does it get any sexier than tall, dark, handsome museum guards wielding easels? My mind is racing through Met-tastic hallways filled with brooding men and their walkie-talkies, every one recession-proof and self-editing, jacket-clad with paint-stained ties. To top it all off, they know the way to da Vinci and the ladies' room. Well, slap my Pollack and me Patron; Mr. Artist-Guard<i>,</i> I'm sold.Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-41512771730769908092010-03-11T17:55:00.001-05:002010-03-11T17:56:38.395-05:00The Starting Gate Zen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTanfBouKwjaOHkdDoJyl7tW6rmwmoAIZF5IU1AdzZ6rlLHiQXGtVf-okFiNlePXDvcdZWOQECGswX_KOJUbQ7ofbx_hisUEBrj7l4_ja3fM1ad-v_mAK5sVewxeVVPWtinNynSkcVAVjC/s1600-h/race.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTanfBouKwjaOHkdDoJyl7tW6rmwmoAIZF5IU1AdzZ6rlLHiQXGtVf-okFiNlePXDvcdZWOQECGswX_KOJUbQ7ofbx_hisUEBrj7l4_ja3fM1ad-v_mAK5sVewxeVVPWtinNynSkcVAVjC/s320/race.jpg" /></a></div><br />
[BANG] And they're off!<br />
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The past two days have been a little insane. Welcome back to having two clients, I suppose. It's been exciting, though, to say the least, and I'm having a pretty good time with it, occasional heart-rate spikes aside.<br />
<br />
Things are looking up for the little Cait & Associates - and making ends meet is very validating. I am so incredibly grateful for my past sixty days of sober vegan living. Whether it's bunk or not to the world, making very conscious choices about what I ingest and imbibe has deeply affected my outlook, attitude and energy. And not being hungover - <i>ever</i> - is maybe the single most amazing discovery I've made over the course of my (debatably) adult life. Incredible.<br />
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Positivity, social consciousness, healthy choices, man... Groovy.Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-44371850631216993272010-03-10T23:54:00.002-05:002010-03-13T00:19:29.416-05:00On Chaos and Stars<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiacaUjAO4B3VvXF1oldOOTDwH1bfZ5airXYn39v24YzdpynW0KOP7P2n03AwXrxVAORUrHNyA5-I3uBukotJWYIT1Gs_BCBmaFMfABPTjupXiJTNXfi6iY6TYcg8YHyQ7xydPbd8tqckct/s1600-h/star.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiacaUjAO4B3VvXF1oldOOTDwH1bfZ5airXYn39v24YzdpynW0KOP7P2n03AwXrxVAORUrHNyA5-I3uBukotJWYIT1Gs_BCBmaFMfABPTjupXiJTNXfi6iY6TYcg8YHyQ7xydPbd8tqckct/s1600-h/star.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiacaUjAO4B3VvXF1oldOOTDwH1bfZ5airXYn39v24YzdpynW0KOP7P2n03AwXrxVAORUrHNyA5-I3uBukotJWYIT1Gs_BCBmaFMfABPTjupXiJTNXfi6iY6TYcg8YHyQ7xydPbd8tqckct/s320/star.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
What an amazing time to be an artist.<br />
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Not to say I am one, but, regardless, I'm grateful to be surrounded by people who clearly, undebatably are. This past week, I've seen the upside of the recession - sure, there has been a mini-bounce in our economy (more a slight lessening of job cuts than a full-on recovery), but even more silver-lining-y, there has been such an awesome surge of creativity in this city, as people have realized that the safe route is no longer so safe.<br />
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I've been rejected by quite a few MFA programs in the past couple of weeks, but I'm surprisingly okay with that. I see the bright side here - thousands of people are applying for 25 slots per school and that means thousands of people consider studying the arts and pursuing their creative dreams to be a viable alternative to slogging it out in an entry-level job or enduring the ridiculous rigamarole of over-saturated, interminable interview processes. And here I am holding two jobs that reward my writing interests while allowing me the time I need to, well, figure things out. So all you real 100% artists out there, you go on and do your thing - just, for God's sake, make the most of it. Make incredible art out of these crazy times. Make today's instability seem so beautiful we all become grateful in hindsight - as grateful as I'm feeling now.<br />
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As much as I would <i>LOVE</i> to be accepted by a grad school program, I would also, in some small and curious way, love not to. (And please note the difference in capitalization and italics.) Part of me loves this version of New York City, where the arts programs are completely flooded by willing disciples, where <a href="http://www.rachelkleinproductions.com/">experimental theater</a> is pouring out of every sidewalk crack, where art sprouts in <a href="http://www.3rdward.com/">repurposed spaces</a> and <a href="http://www.houseofyes.org/">makeshift performance dens</a>. This New York City where I can spend the days tweeting for clients whose missions I actually believe in, and then the nights supporting the creative minds populating the boroughs around me, from the incredibly awesome <a href="http://www.taxdeductibletheatre.org/">Tax Deductible Theater</a> to the recession-exalting <a href="http://www.independentnewyork.com/information.html">Independent Art Forum</a>.<br />
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Life on life's terms, world. And ain't this the life.</div>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-60964510808915918422010-03-09T18:20:00.002-05:002010-03-09T18:22:17.835-05:00Sleep with the Fishes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8QrCd3RCqyLun74ZhUTJt2XdpQPA3dJZT19gB8CHy4K4Qr__8uFjkQ4fkLPnL6_0Rd5ZRaBWsC8qBg7v8d68jJQjL4i5lvYMQYvicM7iWX_yeC6KF-yb-J9GH4LN0HSxJ4-UsLl7gUXZ3/s1600-h/fish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8QrCd3RCqyLun74ZhUTJt2XdpQPA3dJZT19gB8CHy4K4Qr__8uFjkQ4fkLPnL6_0Rd5ZRaBWsC8qBg7v8d68jJQjL4i5lvYMQYvicM7iWX_yeC6KF-yb-J9GH4LN0HSxJ4-UsLl7gUXZ3/s320/fish.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Okay, no more centipedes. In case you're interested in topics that actually relate to my blog's title, here's a little story about modern-day work culture (the author is unknown):<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px;"></span><br />
<blockquote>An American tourist was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked.</blockquote><blockquote>Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna. The tourist complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.</blockquote><blockquote>The Mexican replied, "Only a little while."</blockquote><blockquote>The tourist then asked, "Why didn't you stay out longer and catch more fish?"</blockquote><blockquote>The Mexican said, "With this I have more than enough to support my family's needs."</blockquote><blockquote>The tourist then asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?"</blockquote><blockquote>The Mexican fisherman said, "I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos, I have a full and busy life."</blockquote><blockquote>The tourist scoffed, " I can help you. You should spend more time fishing; and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat: With the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats. Eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor; eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You could leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then Los Angeles and eventually New York where you could run your ever-expanding enterprise."</blockquote><blockquote>The Mexican fisherman asked, "But, how long will this all take?"</blockquote><blockquote>The tourist replied, "15 to 20 years."</blockquote><blockquote>"But what then?" asked the Mexican.</blockquote><blockquote>The tourist laughed and said, "That's the best part. When the time is right you would sell your company stock to the public and become very rich, you would make millions."</blockquote><blockquote>"Millions?...Then what?"</blockquote><blockquote>The American said, "Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos."</blockquote>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-84992908601599450012010-03-08T19:21:00.003-05:002010-03-13T00:22:32.501-05:00Dear Centipede<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEHmaRdDTcavTuAnOBraQi1-5oAuhEwVGJlms1bO6YHvaus0z7WrLlWv8LuBvSaFA6q5SWhvhMzRk_Lik8K8aqQkVoUdxcKmmxop0DdzO4mwyrVc914-MjQJe7cteDlZIqwyixuGhgjEu-/s1600-h/centi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEHmaRdDTcavTuAnOBraQi1-5oAuhEwVGJlms1bO6YHvaus0z7WrLlWv8LuBvSaFA6q5SWhvhMzRk_Lik8K8aqQkVoUdxcKmmxop0DdzO4mwyrVc914-MjQJe7cteDlZIqwyixuGhgjEu-/s320/centi.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I've been on a mental rollercoaster today... The day itself has been good - considering that included a trip to the dentist, that says a lot. Still, my mind is racing round the same boring track it's been racing round for nearly a year: how many ways did I wrong you, past platonic/professional/romantic relationship people?<br />
<br />
Maybe it's because I've found some zen with my income, my body, and my friendships that I'm flipping over any and every stone fearing/hoping to unearth poisonous centipedes. Very poisonous centipedes. Very poisonous centipedes that I previously tortured and so they are not only very (very) poisonous, but resentful and - here's the absolute worst part - 100% entitled to both their poison and their resentment. Does that make any sense?<br />
<br />
Now you see what my internal monologue has been like...<br />
<br />
Culpability's a bitch. Especially when I realize that, even discovering everything I did wrong, each of these situations (and one in particular) <i>still</i> would have ended in total disaster. I could have just walked out, integrity, if not emotions, relatively intact. But no. I was so graceless in the rubble. So sadistically akimbo, knotted into a wrecking ball, hurling destruction at every wall, all the while screaming, "Why's it so messy in here?"<br />
<br />
Centipede, these are the rocks I have hidden you under. You have a hundred little pieces I'm uncomfortable with. And here I am, un-balled and flipping over your refuge, coaxing you out and into the light, so I can look at you in the sunshine, freak the f*ck out, and realize I can't stomp on you without feeling guilty. <br />
<br />
Oh dammit.Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-65174318363951014602010-03-05T00:02:00.002-05:002010-03-05T17:17:05.958-05:00My Bellybutton, or Self-Discovery Rocks Part ii<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnhDwoceOs-WkSpTdtnJQWnWBW-HMZnkQwTpglJhAT8mnG5M0wtbINgXLlfJfUYJ6xQad-lhf878yX80qZ7BNF9c5TlqKAe0teYGmwEsCdGMTWAscEOjYlhUiHsKXw_6xktzubxuhq1uTs/s1600-h/x.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnhDwoceOs-WkSpTdtnJQWnWBW-HMZnkQwTpglJhAT8mnG5M0wtbINgXLlfJfUYJ6xQad-lhf878yX80qZ7BNF9c5TlqKAe0teYGmwEsCdGMTWAscEOjYlhUiHsKXw_6xktzubxuhq1uTs/s320/x.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 20px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">In the interest of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">me me me</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">, here is a completely new launchpad list of what I might really like to do with myself sometime between tomorrow and when I die:</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 20px;"></span></span><br />
<ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">Book myself a ticket for one on a 11-day</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"> </span><a href="http://www.vegvoyages.com/vegnews-adventure-itinerary.html" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">trip </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">through India</span></a></li>
</ul><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">Enroll in a </span><a href="http://www.scps.nyu.edu/course-detail/X32.9382/20102/poetry-tutorial" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">poetry writing workshop</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"> at NYU</span></li>
</ul><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">Get a </span><a href="http://www.inkedmag.com/article/inked-girls-new-york-city/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">full-sleeve tattoo</span></a></li>
</ul><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">Take some time to join up with a </span><a href="http://www.startingartists.org/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Brooklyn non-profit</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;"> to organize workshops for disadvantaged teen girls. These workshops would teach local girls how to turn their natural social media fluency into a promotional tool, a networking outlet and a marketable skill. Eventually, in this hypothetical utopia, I'd then take a few of the more interested girls and partner them with</span><a href="http://www.idealist.org/if/i/en/av/Org/107928-218" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"> creative non-profit organizations</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">, <a href="http://www.murielguepingallery.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">neighborhood art spaces</span></a>, and<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"> </span><a href="http://www.bookcourt.org/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Brooklyn-based businesses</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"> </span>invested in the immediate community, giving the young women key in-the-field experience and exposure to new community role models and giving the local organizations some additional social media marketing guidance and manpower. The ultimate goal would be to found and direct my own spin-off non-profit that would do this on a much larger scale in communities throughout Brooklyn, teaming up with a brand sponsor like Palm (as their Smartphones would be a natural tie-in and brand loyalty is strongly increased when brands adopt clear, positive social causes) and create collateral spin-off materials (inside-look blogs, video podcasts, etc.) that would raise funds, increase awareness and inspire similar start-up organizations nationwide. Yes.</span></li>
</ul><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">My bellybutton thanks you for your time, and it hopes you enjoyed basking in its sunshine.</span></div>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-56012811765115099012010-03-04T16:05:00.004-05:002010-03-04T23:56:50.067-05:00Lotus Eaters, Navel Gazers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii171lBVFoD1DvPY59WByUx_lfk3-z-u4ok5qWG7iZgEYcGQYI4qCtLMX0wvq5ujen8Jq8HBaypilgSm0oTmEjekOblAyJqz-2APlO5JxVnxrcIdpHerc3q7h7rUOT_EsYxDMoahSj9CwY/s1600-h/x.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii171lBVFoD1DvPY59WByUx_lfk3-z-u4ok5qWG7iZgEYcGQYI4qCtLMX0wvq5ujen8Jq8HBaypilgSm0oTmEjekOblAyJqz-2APlO5JxVnxrcIdpHerc3q7h7rUOT_EsYxDMoahSj9CwY/s320/x.jpg" /></a></div>Self-discovery rocks.<br />
<br />
I recently registered for <a href="http://www.howaboutwe.com/">a dating site</a> - not because I'm looking to date, oddly enough, but because it operates on a very cool model that I wanted to check out - sort of the crowd-sourcing of online personals. Basically, when you sign up, you say YES or NO to about 10 hypothetical dates. You also answer a few most basic questions (i.e. Do you smoke? Do you drink? Are you a lady?) along with about 3 questions regarding who you're looking for (Gender? Age? Religion?). Then you propose an ideal date (i.e. "Bake vegan cupcakes and play kazoo to the animals in the Bronx Zoo," "Eat lotuses and stare at our navels," or whatever) and when you'd like to do it ("June 4th," "this week," "whenever") and how much correspondence you'd prefer before the actual date (i.e. a few phone calls, a text, nothing but an RSVP email).<br />
<br />
Then, based on your basic preferences from those early YES or NO date scenarios, you're sent some other person's date suggestion to reject outright or explore further. If you choose to explore it further, you get their contact info and, shotgun fired, you're off.<br />
<br />
I like this idea a lot - the idea of actually seeking out someone with shared interests in the most practical sense. So I'll see what happens... But the reason I bring all this up is not to make you think I need to get out more. Nope. I bring this up because something interesting happened to me when I was filling out the text box for "Your ideal date would be..."<br />
<br />
What interesting thing happened, you ask?<br />
<br />
I had no idea what to write. I had no idea what I would enjoy, and (being the ever-dogged hedonist even in the face of all these new and healthy choices) I figured this befuddlement must reflect a lack of self-awareness.<br />
<br />
Who am I? I'm not sure. I'm finding out. I have a ways to go. But dating sites world-wide be warned: I'm working on it.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>Oh, and as for the death imagery in the last post, well, the story continues to unfold....</div>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-33479010153321654282010-03-03T16:58:00.004-05:002010-03-03T17:10:34.715-05:00The Here and Now<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmzQbXiuWCSZZCY3ghyphenhyphen0LqP333zRjiGnMuiY9aEbXec46DilmiBkBnoKGDG4qEKHOVV_2ju6sX4quapYNRKBIUdIbJQg9ayUIXlAGPUhBcFe8J8PkaAMkAhpQZZl2oaXrSBTNoE_ehc3xC/s1600-h/dia-de-los-muertos-art-n_satterf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmzQbXiuWCSZZCY3ghyphenhyphen0LqP333zRjiGnMuiY9aEbXec46DilmiBkBnoKGDG4qEKHOVV_2ju6sX4quapYNRKBIUdIbJQg9ayUIXlAGPUhBcFe8J8PkaAMkAhpQZZl2oaXrSBTNoE_ehc3xC/s320/dia-de-los-muertos-art-n_satterf.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I'm kind of liking the pace of things right now - which must mean one thing: change is comin' round.</div><br />
I'm not being snide or negative. I'm not belting out "Ironic" with three dopplegangers in a mid-sized compact car. I'm not even bringing out my twelve stone tablets of Murphy's Law. But I have noticed that when things start to feel settled, the still air is growing charged with electrons.<br />
<br />
Call me batsh*t crazy, but I have noticed some signs lately - little grace notes from the universe that seem to reflect and presage what's happening around me. Normally this is great benign reflection fodder. Today, though, it seemed the world was repeatedly cautioning me about death.<br />
<br />
In snippets of overhead conversation, chance page openings, friendly confidences, and daytime tv topics, death has come up again and again this morning and afternoon. I don't feel I'm channeling it. I'm certainly not introducing it as a conversation topic. But still, every hour or so, BOOM, there it is: some unsolicited mention of death.<br />
<br />
Maybe I really am batsh*t crazy.<br />
<br />
Now, don't get me wrong; I don't think the universe is warning me about literal death (knock knock knocking on heaven's wood door). However, I do I think I'm being warned of metaphorical death. Non-literal death. Current status quo death.<br />
<br />
A change is coming; I can feel it.<br />
<br />
I will keep you posted.Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-42379436750754423442010-03-02T18:13:00.005-05:002010-03-02T18:25:16.410-05:00On God, Obama & My Bottom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM7OMDdqn7wCARl10QB8Ck2sWnd5ujnUlehyQpofp5IChSH2U7C4SYMwOv1Ez2jTJs_qqGBIQTk8tBZ7eysCVDDJiuLwZMPbAcsYHHwkdFyKbgwtrTvA39TOdVE65Lo2gOVveGeGn0plWK/s1600-h/BFH_Obama_Oreo_dunk.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM7OMDdqn7wCARl10QB8Ck2sWnd5ujnUlehyQpofp5IChSH2U7C4SYMwOv1Ez2jTJs_qqGBIQTk8tBZ7eysCVDDJiuLwZMPbAcsYHHwkdFyKbgwtrTvA39TOdVE65Lo2gOVveGeGn0plWK/s320/BFH_Obama_Oreo_dunk.gif" /></a></div><br />
Last night at a meeting, a woman spoke about "left-handed gifts" from the universe. For her, the most recent gift was losing her job, because it gave her the time she needed to focus on physical and emotional recovery from a pretty bad health crisis.<br />
<br />
I've been thinking a bit about this. "Left-handed gifts." Now is not the worst time for me to be semi-employed. I can pay my rent (thank the heavens and knock on wood) and I suddenly have the time to explore the city, pay attention to my own mental tangles, make new friends, and take on passion projects.<br />
<br />
However, I sometimes wish these "left-handed gifts" included health care. I've scheduled my first uninsured teeth cleaning for Monday and it's running me a good $160. This is a vast improvement over the first estimate (which included charting and x-rays) of $500. Still, neither is exactly a $25 co-pay.<br />
<br />
At the end of the day, I am grateful to be able to afford this, even if it's more than I'd like. I'm grateful to be whining about preventative care and not unavoidable surgery (incredible amount of heaven-thanking and wood-knocking here). But all this gives me pause, too.<br />
<br />
I cannot imagine being uninsured and living a risky life. The chances I took when I knew I had insurance to cover (and mend) my behind were ridiculous. Such risky behavior would be just plain insane should I exhibit it now that I'm insurance-less. Yikes.<br />
<br />
Would universal health care put me back on the wide and wobbly road towards mayhem, that garden path of beast and grape? Doubtful.<br />
<br />
But am I grateful I have a much stronger hold on my mindless self-destruction now that I'm uninsured? You bet my super-safely-padded bottom I am.<br />
<br />
Vegan Oreos & Sleepytime Tea for all!Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-50344563851610666432010-03-01T19:06:00.003-05:002010-03-02T18:14:44.402-05:00The Permanent Press Cycle<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiScO_NFT9mU9oho2ne_LQg_cK4_rQgZTlYN3vK8fenxFWlGQt2Pj-_xjt5QWKLL4EHW4bCgga0hK-AjAIpl9-z-gDvkrfDXTFwBahiwpXXUfEd-zAWKqjRoDuyPLoHdr1pFja1nSe7MiJI/s1600-h/missing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiScO_NFT9mU9oho2ne_LQg_cK4_rQgZTlYN3vK8fenxFWlGQt2Pj-_xjt5QWKLL4EHW4bCgga0hK-AjAIpl9-z-gDvkrfDXTFwBahiwpXXUfEd-zAWKqjRoDuyPLoHdr1pFja1nSe7MiJI/s320/missing.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">http://poppytalk.blogspot.com/2008/06/laundry-room-art.html</span></div><br />
Hmm. Fell off the face of the blog-earth there for a minute. Maybe it was that article? Anywho, to make a long laundry list short, here are my thoughts on the last post:<br />
<ul><li>This is a terrifying time to be an employee in a threatened industry (or really in any industry) because you have no leveraging power. I've been a fan on unions for a while now, and you can see, in troubled times, how much more important they are. A good re-read of sentimental socialist lit like <i>The Grapes of Wrath</i> never hurt no one.</li>
<li>I am so delighted to be my own boss right now. Sure, it can be terrifying, but when I remember some of the conversation I overheard when at a larger agency - and some of the stories I hear from industry friends now - I thank my lucky stars I can pay the rent working in my PJs.</li>
<li>Marketing Daily has far too many niche editions. It's too bad they are all so damn interesting. I can't believe that one woman is behind the bulk of them. Yowzers. And hats off.</li>
</ul>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-64140711628598368092010-02-22T17:46:00.005-05:002010-03-02T18:15:33.421-05:00Ho Hum<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmuaz3ppajZnvfFZw5jxGTzxDBkP4-BcofXM4hR88vBdYyvxDNZzuyUl-kXVbZBV0Kslq5SMwKFYcM6c6uoK3esk-R3wp7mfftwTcFyBdpVQhMDopbrrLZekAHFUjP3hoatdVblUP_6goe/s1600-h/blank.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmuaz3ppajZnvfFZw5jxGTzxDBkP4-BcofXM4hR88vBdYyvxDNZzuyUl-kXVbZBV0Kslq5SMwKFYcM6c6uoK3esk-R3wp7mfftwTcFyBdpVQhMDopbrrLZekAHFUjP3hoatdVblUP_6goe/s320/blank.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Nothing too much to report here - just your average Monday. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A recent article in the NY Times, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: none;"><b><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/02/21/fashion/21genb.html?ref=style&pagewanted=all">Keeping the Plates Spinning</a> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">by Michael Winerip, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">d</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-weight: normal;">id grab my attention, though... I'll share why tomorrow, but here are a few choice bits:</span></b></span></span></div><blockquote>IN February 2007, Nina Lentini became the editor of Marketing Daily, a five-day-a week online trade newsletter that covers the advertising and marketing industries.</blockquote><blockquote>...In 18 months, Ms. Lentini went from editing one daily newsletter to still editing that one, as well as the 10 weeklies that generated new ad revenue at no extra cost to her company. Of course, there was a cost: her free time. “It’s, ‘How many plates can I keep going?’ ” she said. “You’re giddy with hysteria.”...“I understand everybody works like this now,” Ms. Lentini said. “I don’t feel I have mean bosses. I like my bosses — people care about each other at this company. This is just the new reality.”</blockquote><blockquote>That’s the problem for boomers: They remember the old reality...“I worked 10 to 7,” she recalled. “We took long lunches, they were nice days. When you went home, that was the end of it, you didn’t think about work. Didn’t worry about it. You had another separate life that didn’t include work. I don’t think young people could imagine it today. You got two or three weeks’ vacation — real vacation. Sick leave. We never worked on weekends.” </blockquote><blockquote>...Ms. Lentini does not beat herself up over these things. “We’re doing the best we can with the resources we have,” she said. But like a lot of us, she worries for journalism’s future. “I wonder, when the economy improves and everyone has more money, do we go back to the way it was? Or are they going to say: ‘Why hire more people? You did it yourself.’ That’s what I’d say if I were the boss.</blockquote>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-26693052841296070832010-02-19T17:33:00.000-05:002010-02-19T17:33:44.767-05:00My Granny SquaresIs it wrong to be so excited about a Friday night in? I am nearly giddy with the thought. I'm going to watch the office, drink tea, and finish crocheting a blanket I started over five years ago. If that is Old Biddy Depressing, well, hell yeah I'll take it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij8eRtXgSbOtQMKSlbEAxX5vSErtulgBAkLKMqyRHNROYogHBTfhKISB6qcDqlZEAlHeFo64Z16mv-utAA1AumRZNuQhTXWHQ9hwFDRylR4tcCrbJtuVEaJBzak8bVBHxv2kpKfkQCjrIh/s1600-h/granny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij8eRtXgSbOtQMKSlbEAxX5vSErtulgBAkLKMqyRHNROYogHBTfhKISB6qcDqlZEAlHeFo64Z16mv-utAA1AumRZNuQhTXWHQ9hwFDRylR4tcCrbJtuVEaJBzak8bVBHxv2kpKfkQCjrIh/s320/granny.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Am I growing up, growing old, or just growing different? So many things have changed in the past two years. So many things have changed in the past one. It's enough to tucker any girl out.<br />
<br />
No wonder this blanket, this DVD, this cup of tea look so good...Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-52679188821645936152010-02-18T23:29:00.001-05:002010-02-18T23:31:01.979-05:00Happy Lent<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">Yesterday was Ash Wednesday - and today is Day 39 of my new lifestyle. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1OcLex7cf7-8JqRyWoLMHXof43oQ_LMuubTUKLpt63jqqgrf5N8xsbEE6eFCdUjnsmINnAE849PadQTDWyihQdGMOnGEiaCH3LhZvsEdysW8jdUjiyhD2X86AQfJdqyE1xiKNPVwF0RDf/s1600-h/lent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1OcLex7cf7-8JqRyWoLMHXof43oQ_LMuubTUKLpt63jqqgrf5N8xsbEE6eFCdUjnsmINnAE849PadQTDWyihQdGMOnGEiaCH3LhZvsEdysW8jdUjiyhD2X86AQfJdqyE1xiKNPVwF0RDf/s320/lent.jpg" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';">Interesting the way timing works, every now and then...</span></div>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-70209848705890449472010-02-18T00:35:00.000-05:002010-02-18T00:35:07.875-05:00Marshy SawgrassA new game was invented on the trip to the Everglades. This game was not actually played aloud, or, honestly, even suggested, but it was still invented. Here's how it goes:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRZRUVWg5c_7OevqHGMGjo8ErP1kT7pRGBtjw_4XfjvT82fo_ikMlB-qjYfrlrjwo7qhbAa4Gav2m99ZfgJyJSC7YNC1rGGGtbQPtBjOfsDe3CxakgvRz0vki01sC8D1wBzAMvQ5gTqz6_/s1600-h/IMG_0042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRZRUVWg5c_7OevqHGMGjo8ErP1kT7pRGBtjw_4XfjvT82fo_ikMlB-qjYfrlrjwo7qhbAa4Gav2m99ZfgJyJSC7YNC1rGGGtbQPtBjOfsDe3CxakgvRz0vki01sC8D1wBzAMvQ5gTqz6_/s320/IMG_0042.JPG" /></a></div><br />
First, you get in a rented cherry-red Chrysler. Then you drive from Fort Lauderdale forever and ever to a tiny old fisherman village founded in the 1820s. Then you don't sleep very much and you spend many minutes plotting stealthy pajama-clad runs to the shared bathrooms after midnight because the air travel turned your ankles into innertubes and your bladder to a pea. But you have a very good time and dream about pirate musicals and wake up early and eat only french fries all day long because Floridians do not value the vegan lifestyle unless it means you eat fried seafood.<br />
<br />
Fried seafood is, in fact, vegan in any and all costal states south of our nation's capitol.<br />
<br />
But this is not the game. This is the preamble that allows the game to really start. The game really starts when you eat your breakfast french fries, pile back into the cherry-red Chrysler, head over to Shark Valley, and start reading the road signs.<br />
<br />
The name of the game is: Fictional Archetype or Indigenous Species?<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">Round one: Marshy Sawgrass</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Round two: Skunk Ape</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Round three: Cotton Mouth</div><br />
Yes - these are all technically the latter (indigenous species) but can you imagine the plot lines these names could propel?<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">"The Sheriff walked into the bar. The music stopped. The cards dropped. But the showgirl's leg stayed lifted high, petticoat pulled back, in mid-air. Across the sawdust floor, the dark stetson hid a face crosshatched with lies. Marshy Sawgrass. The Sheriff walked toward the black hat, straight into a cloud of penny whiskey and smoke."</span></div><br />
And who ever said there's nothing to do in the Everglades??Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-27857091977806329642010-02-12T16:58:00.004-05:002010-02-12T17:14:02.770-05:00Before the Everglades<div style="text-align: left;">What a day of self-doubt. Yipes. But I will get through it and then forget it was this pervasive. Circle of something something.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 132px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqtQVxvf3l6j_1Ves-fIUQ1PKX4NxJNJn6MJRjj5jm4HJkPfxCP8dkA-Q0gb5GxltowyeWUwhVHTpd8J3PDH1T3UmWCfLF3HUARxSoLq_ndUdQggLPpW9c2_J6rV5bzAyuVxNJUTK9Jix5/s200/glades.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437483403474068562" /></div><div><br /></div><div>Tomorrow I leave for Florida to tour the Everglades with Dad. I've never been, and I hope it's the kind of thing we can just breeze into. I don't have a ton of pre-planning energy in me right now, so let's all just keep our fingers crossed.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was rejected from University of Wisconsin - Madison this morning. That didn't feel great. Then again, I didn't expect to get in everywhere. Just somewhere would be nice. Again - more finger crossing please.</div><div><br /></div><div>Also, a lot of mad women are trying to burn down my attic. This is a metaphor, thank goodness, but it still feels vitally threatening. I'm keeping it to a dull smolder, but reconciling the past with the present is making me want to install extinguishers on every floor. There is more than one way to feel smoke coming out of one's ears.</div><div><br /></div><div>Thank goodness for therapy, weekends, my family, and the wild wilderness ahead.</div>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-46585700411001585152010-02-11T23:18:00.004-05:002010-02-11T23:27:48.422-05:00Palm Amish<div style="text-align: left;">I just got my first smart-phone and, hot damn, am I confused. I almost snapped a chunk off of it trying to figure out where to put the charger; it keeps doing the mariachi shake everytime I get a Facebook message; it lists everyone I have ever sent a press release to in my contacts (this is sheer divine payback for sloppy publicity tricks, I know it); it keeps blinking little lights of bewilderment every time I give it yet another fey misguided swipe.</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 199px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbsBWxiGoOjLcZzsOnqhszqw6bFkSZk_CFcumuNvFjYStQStxoQnrJ2sTDNr2TIjilhKOGpb2DXh7yWdmf0hsrKj-jahee_StfThgrVucxa_LhpVNk4-J5JUxCLSbMcsvh_oWv4wYo5Rrb/s200/buggy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437208257389197442" /><div><br /></div><div><div>In other words, I think this is the begining of a beautiful friendship.</div></div></div>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-62198159946134037802010-02-10T14:55:00.005-05:002010-02-10T15:04:20.896-05:00Snow Day<div style="text-align: left;">Snow snow snow. It's nearing tundra level out there. I do not want to leave this apartment - and I don't think I will.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiar9uFFFBFvFX2WeKALODoCr3wqhoEoR5D5BN4eQr416DdxupESXoydExeiAH05sv0I8Yv5pfHt7PLKkpUpgQT5ZAV0jfU8hT0206MOkNiA6ZJrwRhX4oU41z4Q_IudEIVRxvXy1614t24/s200/snow.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436707728459418498" /></div><div>Hurray for self-employment.</div>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-26109625823908197552010-02-09T17:50:00.007-05:002010-02-09T18:20:45.890-05:00Consider My Kidneys<div style="text-align: left;">Interesting day today - and I'm feeling grateful for my current situation. I'm able to support myself working freelance, which is amazing and, at times, nearly unbelievable. I'm able to maintain sobriety, which is amazing and, at times, wholly unbelievable. I'm able to work for a cause I believe in and look ahead to a future I'm actually very excited for. Hopefully all will continue to be sunshine and lollipops.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 121px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh07bHiZ4Y65xEB6JYAxE_Otx-Y7euNyBx8TgR6snoSIvNXKImwP-WSKJnc5zjCy-X1leSyrvnpjW5jyOAAiqO1AjaTunU400dsSpHOPHAaUrgCY5A5Pu198kLe59T6Kr_FTf1Y0OKIUHVV/s200/HappyKidneyRededren1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436386730818535170" /></div><div>I was just on the phone with a colleague who was explaining why he can't take effective cold medicine even though he's sick: it's because he donated his kidney to his father, and his body can't process most antibiotics or anti-histamines now that it's gone. After the donation and transplant, his father got cancer and his body rejected the kidney. The father is now in and out of the hospital, and my co-worker, the son, is floored by the flu.<div><div><br /></div><div>But - here's the kicker - this co-worker has the best attitude in the world. </div><div><br /></div><div>I've been told you have to take life on life's terms. Not that you have to accept everything horrible, but that, at a certain point, you want to take the measure of a moment and see what you can do. Sometimes the best you can do is breathe and continue.</div><div><br /></div><div>A woman I once met said she was so sick of "cussin and fussin" at the universe. I don't think blanket tolerance is the answer to the world's many injustices, but neither is internalizing struggle. Hating a situation doesn't change it. Action sometimes can, depending on the situation. But sometimes, like with the kidney, serenity and support supply world's more good than "cussin and fussin" ever could.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today I nearly had a tantrum when my Gmail froze and my browser wouldn't Force Quit. I was about ready to throw my poor iBook across the room... speaking of an internalized struggle not helping anything.</div><div><br /></div><div>But then the Gmail started working again and I realized I have both my kidneys. I have my father. I can take Benadryl and, even better, I currently don't need to. I hear so many stories of how bad things can get - but I get to hear these stories from people who have finally found peace. That's an amazing thing. And so I am grateful.</div></div></div>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-15018221395762228302010-02-08T19:00:00.005-05:002010-02-08T19:21:58.385-05:00Good and Lazy<div style="text-align: left;">I am having a serious couch potato moment. Maybe it's because I've already been to the gym, done a day's work, seen the Tim Burton exhibit at MOMA, shopped at three bodegas (9 times), and eaten a heaping tablespoon of creamy peanut butter. Yes, maybe that is partly to do with it. But somehow, the only real reason I come up with is:<b> I AM </b><b>LAZY & NO GOOD</b>.</div><div><br /><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTjiTofURDmBfhs1yR4UgWdnmQGKAeJ5h9kghcfAnWRYMglil-Rg36BwW6MVNinOF725sU5EJikXa9VicTNJPiF3wxkss5XWwGvoA4UuCphr7rQz7YxH1lzhyphenhyphenaSkxJuY49WlE3nTR_-D26/s320/1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436030991417306290" /></div><div>Why are we all so damn hard on ourselves?</div><div><br /></div><div>The more time I spend sober, the more aware I am of the constant stream of self-criticism I harbor. Christ. In some ways, the critique's consistency should be freeing - I don't think the inner-chatter could possibly escalate, so I have nothing more to fear. I could commit a million crimes and the volume level would be the same - Spinal Tap's deafening 11.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Breathe. </b></div><div><br /></div><div>Things are good. I am good. Life is good. The elliptical machine, Tim Burton, creamy peanut butter, and bodegas are good. Couch potato is good. Even lazy can be good.</div><div><br /></div><div>Good?</div><div><br /></div><div>Good.</div></div>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-31776606286992336282010-02-05T17:29:00.008-05:002010-02-05T17:59:10.917-05:00TGI...<div style="text-align: left;">How funny Fridays are when you are not employed full-time. Even if I were still drinking, I don't think I would relish the five pm drink the same way as when I was slogging through sixty-hour weeks. This is not a bad thing.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 260px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJROeGi4qeBLNXOS0yRyvMFIQbqpKWrw8UNJNQBDamqhKMxrizBzzHeKbevwowhUF5B11QAvFcACa0myXGlYTc-RxBLr6qZ58Yl3R1f5UJIskmR_b1CJg-1cwA5ivnukRWx5MTM7k0I5AU/s320/happyhr.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434896759098108354" /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We're all waiting for the snow to start here in New York. I've received countless e-newsletters playing with the threat of upcoming precipitation. Antici-precipitation. I have decent provisions, should it come to that, but really, my NY1 forecast predicted four inches. I think we'll live. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">(I say this now...)</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">My college's alumni magazine arrived this morning. I was expecting, as I opened it, to end up feeling deflated, left-in-the-dust, outshone. While there's a whole lot of merit and reward in those pages, however, I don't feel envy. People seem to be making their way, but I didn't find any miracle-suckers in there. No one wheezed on the juice of good fortune. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I'm finally feeling pro-anthropic. I like people. I like being a person. We are all just trying to figure it out, and, if nothing else, we have that in common. We are working on it. And that it is us. And that is just fine with me. I feel this is the moment we all hold hands and sing things to the soon-to-fall snowflakes. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; ">Dah-who dar-aze... <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; ">Who knew New York would be my Whoville today?</span></span></span></div>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-960195951702585523.post-52516197313849535502010-02-04T17:18:00.003-05:002010-02-04T17:37:39.733-05:00Hey Universe<div style="text-align: left;">Today has been a good day. I asked the universe for it, and the universe delivered. Awesome. I will certainly try that more often.</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivB3AdgUdWz10VjB81A_shS7ZCrg0L2RS5eE5yQPaHFrKQtWincj69mVUoCNWZe15NEUM_X8KSWQJBoJwrEbtzx3gZZCdQxNJUInJltUTiFRv8it-g6noZwnk9RhIMoX0T4NGHd4ROYV2u/s320/birds.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434520749474126818" /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><i><a href="http://www.explodingdog.com">www.explodingdog.com</a></i></span></div><div><br /></div><div>Today I tackled the gym, the therapist, the raw vegan burrito store, my non-profit work, old invoices, transcript requests, my checking account and Best Buy - and it all worked out. I even got a brand new Canon Elph to show for it, so yes, today has been a good day.</div><div><br /></div><div>I feel my thoughts aren't incredibly deep lately. I've been going a day at a time, trusting the world to figure itself out and then, hopefully, to take me aside and let me in on the secret. I'm not struggling right this second, which is an odd feeling. I suppose it'd be a good feeling, but it's so damn odd I can't even give it a thumbs up or down yet.</div><div><br /></div><div>Today is the 25th day I've survived without eating animals or drinking alcohol. I so would have thought I'd be dead by this point, but no. Instead, my skin's a little clearer, I feel a hell of a lot better, and I'm probably a whole heaping dose happier than I was before. Interesting.</div><div><br /></div><div>My life so revolved around eating and drinking - and not even in a I'm-Drunk-Every-Night kind of way, but more in the "Hi, I'm Cait, I'm a bar reviewer" kind of way. Now that's not who I am. So who am I?</div><div><br /></div><div>I don't know.</div><div><br /></div><div>Apparently someone who likes surviving gym, therapy, raw vegan burritos, non-profit work, invoices, transcripts, checking accounts and Best Buy. But obviously more than that too...</div><div><br /></div><div>But what?</div></div>Caithttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11002633248415345927noreply@blogger.com0